


Whip

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, BDSM, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masochism, Torture, Violence, Whipping, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Another glimpse into Mitsuhide's motivations to remain loyal, for now.
Relationships: Akechi Mitsuhide/Oda Nobunaga
Kudos: 5





	Whip

Mitsuhide is both thrilled and apprehensive when Nobunaga-kou calls him to his room at long last, but obeys without question even as he’s grabbed around the waist and hauled the rest of the way in like a prisoner. He doesn’t question because he is faithful to his lord in ways that others could only conjure up in their most outlandish nightmares, even as his lord throws him down hard enough to bruise, even as he tears the armor plating from his body with the same ferocity that he had on the battlefield and how _lucky_ Mitsuhide was to be on the receiving end of it. He would show his thanks appropriately.

Yes Nobunaga-kou you are so good to me. Drown me in my own blood and I will wash away willingly. For a second he almost thought that Nobunaga was going to _literally_ do so and it was with disappointment that he realized no, the perfect death was not what was in store for him today.

There was a whistling noise, something that sounded like wind but not quite and just as Mitsuhide turned his head to see what it was, that was when it hit him – a long length of rope, cruelly knotted at the end, licking over the exposed skin of his back and stinging something mighty. Mitsuhide couldn’t breathe.

He was so _happy._

“Yes, _oh_ yes, my Lord – “

“Shut up.” Nobunaga backhanded him across the face with such force that Mitsuhide actually ended up falling sideways to the floor from his kneeling position. Blood dripped onto the ground below him and he smeared it over the floorboards with his fingers, sharp nails scraping like the claws of a rabid animal.

Will you not let me scream for you, my Lord? How sad indeed, but if it was a direct order and oh, if it held that glorious promise of _more more more_ of that pain to come, he would obey, it was a sacrifice he did not even have to think about making. 

Nobunaga did not give him time to clamber back up. Mitsuhide heard the whip slice through the air as he raised it and then brought it down with just as much ruthlessness as he’d shot Imagawa with, as if he was determined to beat Mitsuhide into the very floor itself. 

“So good – “

Another lash, harsher than the previous one, if that was even possible. Mitsuhide had abandoned his earlier attempts to pull himself up from the floor. It wasn't as if he _minded_ it here in any case. 

_Nobunaga-kou!_

He knew he was panting, now almost flat on his stomach, his knees underneath him and his cheek pressed into the floor as his Lord graciously and cruelly and _methodically_ – oh how he shuddered – rained blows down upon him. Mitsuhide was achingly, painfully hard. He gasped against his arm, eyes heavy-lidded and his skin on fire. He looked up from underneath his hair – now a mess, fallen over his face – and into his Lord’s merciless, inhuman eyes.

Shall I grant you absolution, Mitsuhide? Do you think you have earned it?

Yes yes yes my Lord Nobunaga please I’ll give my life my soul. I’ll reap hundreds more for you anything you want anything you desire.

Whether this was satisfactory or not, he could not tell – nothing in Nobunaga’s face changed, he did not so much as move a muscle – until he _did,_ and Mitsuhide saw nothing but white.

He felt the sting afterwards, but not before the warmth of his own blood spread over his back, now torn open and riddled with lash marks. This one had finally broken skin, and had done so with such force that he was left gasping, eyes wide, against the floor. He’d came completely untouched, every inch of him trembling as Nobunaga-kou threw down the bloodied whip, turned, and swept out of the door. The disregard stung more, somehow, than any of Mitsuhide’s wounds. 

Left bloodied and ruined on the floor, he knew bliss.


End file.
